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First Execution
When apparently mild-mannered retired teacher Domenico Stasi learns that a former student of his is being held as a suspected terrorist, he seeks her out to assure himself of her innocence and that his teachings have not created a monster. But she proudly declares her guilt. What's more, she entrusts him with a task that initially seems a child's game but soon becomes much more serious...
173 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2007
2 people are currently reading
384 people want to read
About the author
Domenico Starnone
43 books752 followersDomenico Starnone (Saviano, 1943) è uno scrittore, sceneggiatore e giornalista italiano.
Ha collaborato e collabora a numerosi giornali (l'Unità, Il manifesto per cui è stato redattore delle pagine culturali) e riviste di satira (Cuore, Tango, Boxer), con temi generalmente improntati alla sua attività di insegnante di liceo.
Ha scritto con costanza su Linus, negli anni '70-'80.
Ha lavorato anche come sceneggiatore; film come La scuola di Daniele Luchetti, Denti di Gabriele Salvatores e Auguri professore di Riccardo Milani sono ispirati a suoi libri.
Il suo libro maggiormente apprezzato, Via Gemito, ha vinto il Premio Strega nel 2001.
Ha collaborato e collabora a numerosi giornali (l'Unità, Il manifesto per cui è stato redattore delle pagine culturali) e riviste di satira (Cuore, Tango, Boxer), con temi generalmente improntati alla sua attività di insegnante di liceo.
Ha scritto con costanza su Linus, negli anni '70-'80.
Ha lavorato anche come sceneggiatore; film come La scuola di Daniele Luchetti, Denti di Gabriele Salvatores e Auguri professore di Riccardo Milani sono ispirati a suoi libri.
Il suo libro maggiormente apprezzato, Via Gemito, ha vinto il Premio Strega nel 2001.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
August 15, 2015
This is an absolutely *fabulous* book, and since nobody here seems to know of it, I'm going to pound the table a bit. It's a six-star book. A political thriller and metafictional, it works brilliantly and seamlessly. Starnone has a deep and haunting grasp of the world. The translation, moreover, is stellar - it sounds/reads as if it were written in English. No higher praise is possible.
Highly recommended.
Highly recommended.
August 21, 2015
First Execution begins as a tale of political intrigue. Domenico Stasi, a retired teacher, goes to meet a former student, Nina, who has been arrested on a charge of 'armed conspiracy'. He's convinced this must have been some kind of mistake, and hopes to find her contrite, but instead, the unapologetic Nina sets him a task: he is to go to the apartment of a friend of hers, find a certain book and copy out a specified line, which will be collected from him by a stranger. When he complies, he finds himself drawn into a dangerous chain of events, in which he's unsure of the exact function he's performing; is he aiding the activities of terrorists? But then the story becomes metafictional: another Domenico, the author himself, appears in the narrative, talking about how he's writing this book, where he wants it to go, and how his own experiences and memories are feeding into it. The two stories run alongside and into each other, as Stasi's dilemma becomes more and more pronounced - he digs himself into an increasingly deep hole in near-comic fashion - and Starnone rewinds and reshapes his story, exploring the different directions it could take. The Stasi story is an examination of the effect of a certain style of education on young minds, with two extreme cases represented by Nina and another ex-student, Sellitto, who has become a police officer. The other narrative is a meditation on the nature of writing and the evolution of one's political beliefs. Both Stasi and Starnone seem tortured by the fact that they have remained outwardly apathetic in a time of upheaval, while feeling inwardly conflicted about their ability to empathise with both the oppressors and the oppressed. Stasi ruminates on whether his life has been wasted, having chosen to teach rather than to act - and how much responsibility he has to bear for the development of his students' ideals and, consequently, their choices.
There is something brilliantly economical about the way First Execution is written. It's bursting with ideas - about politics, education, writing, ageing, justice and injustice, the nature and definition of 'terrorism', pacifism vs direct action... - and is filled with philosophical digressions, but they are expressed so clearly and beautifully that the book is a pleasure to read. I frequently found myself marking pages to remember, or highlighting passages that struck a chord with me (see the list of quotes below). It's intensely thought-provoking and challenging - but it's also a story I struggled to tear myself away from.
---
p.28: 'When had I tamed myself? It had been a lengthy apprenticeship, begun when I was as young as ten, and continued relentlessly throughout my adolescence, when I had discovered to my own terror that I wanted to murder somebody: my father, a sarcastic friend, my professor of Latin and Greek, even a rude passerby. It was not until I was almost twenty that I began to suspect that, along with the repression of my violent impulses, I had repressed everything, even my ability to experience a profound emotion, even my impulse to do good deeds and help others. I had become as good as I had hoped to be, but good with the cautious detachment of one who never indulges in excess.'
p.39: 'His radical beliefs had always been considered a form of mental honesty. His own life story was first and foremost a history of the books he had read, and he eagerly recounted that story to himself, often with a note of self-deprecation.'
p.57: 'Aging is the slow process of becoming accustomed to the end of real life. One must slowly abandon one's image, one's role, and resign oneself to fading in the memories of others, and in our own. How long had it been since he stopped learning the names of novelists, essayists, directors, singers, artists, and notable people in general? When had he begun to cling to his customary books without trying to read new ones, to his old movie stars without curiosity about the rising ones? Five years ago, or three years ago? His daughter Ida would toss out a name of someone who, in her view, was famous, and he'd shake his head uneasily: he'd never heard of them. Becoming grey, melted wax, formless. Perhaps that was the best way to prepare to die.'
p.62: 'The mists of the Underworld evoked the hypothetical canopy of the Overworld. And that's where I've lived my life, he thought, saddened. In this den, reading, learning. Learning what? The mists of the Underworld, studied and pitied from a comfortable chair, in safety, at the edge of the canopy of the Overworld, in a distant warmth. He had spent a life without great luxury, but without serious privations.'
p.67: 'It was as if—he realized—his blood was running cold, as if his ardor had cooled. He sensed with increasing clarity that the ferocity of political and military behavior, the deplorable actions of the world around him and the world that extended out in the distance, the scandalous poverty of the many and the scandalous wealth of the few, no longer instilled that old sense of determination in him. The very idea that demons don't war against demons, that one Satan never exorcises another Satan, but that there are always hosts of devils on one side and hosts of angels arrayed against them, now struck him as a piece of rank sophistry. At the heart of the battle it is not always so clear where good lies and where evil lies.'
p.96: 'Real images (a ticket taker or the station sign—Genova P. Principe—or the station bar the way I'd seen it at four in the afternoon the week before) set off mental sequences and I lived in a state of distraction for a period that felt endless, but might last only a moment, a fleeting instant. Everything seemed to press in upon me with a vigorous coherence. But as soon as I attempted to marshal everything into written form, the story seemed to lack realism, sociological detail, a fundamental narrative syntax in a way that depressed me.'
p.117-8: 'All the same, a secret part of me... was unable to avoid feeling affinity with the killers rather than the killed, with the kidnappers rather than the kidnapped. I deleted words of condemnation from my vocabulary, I tried not to use current labels. I was careful, even in my thoughts, to avoid using the words murderers, criminals, torturers, terrorists; I felt that they were somehow inadequate. I really thought of them as combatants. Of course, their actions filled me with horror, even fear, and yet the stand they were taking, the determination with which they were attacking, wounding, taking prisoners, and taking life as if they were metaphysical surgeons doing battle with a tumor, led me to feel somehow, I'm not sure how to put it, indebted to them, almost as if I owed them something for having acted in my place, sparing me, at least for the moment, tensions, anxiety, and disgust. That "so?" from Nina, that sign of the impossibility of any reconciliation, both frightened me and fascinated me. What a beautiful day, I thought. So? So? So?'
p.121: 'Good job. You did a good job of shedding blood. In order to eat. In order to occupy someone else's land. To defend yourself. To drive off invaders. To defend sources of water or oil wells. All of these things on this huge verminous ball that day and night a malevolent scarab beetle rolls through a vicious circle, an obtusely fixed orbit in which war follows upon war, massacre follows massacre, and genocide is succeeded by fresh genocide. I carefully swept the balcony, raising clouds of luminous dust.'
p.122-3: 'I had grown old without understanding, and there was nothing to understand. In the final analysis all that mattered was the warm March breeze, springtime, the light striking the wall across the way, the consoling colors that conceal the indecipherable nature of the world. A stream of images—actual, fantastical, dreamed, and remembered. A word, fired by the vocal cords out through the mouth, in a volley of sounds: gutturals, palatals, dentals, labials, nasals. Conciliatory sounds and signs. Or perhaps not, perhaps conversation does not reconcile, does not pacify, does not keep company. We use handsome words to record ugly things, we agree on plans of attack, ambushes, mockeries, genocide, destruction-reconstruction-destruction. We speak violence and we call it the quest for food, hunting, caste, class, competition, market forces, liberation, and the new world order. Perhaps the culminating horror is the seed of the words that describe it.'
p.164: 'Both of us—we discovered—had long and secretly suspected that Stasi was a gullible impostor, that his way of depicting himself was seductive precisely because it was invented out of whole cloth, for our edification and consumption, and for his own.'
There is something brilliantly economical about the way First Execution is written. It's bursting with ideas - about politics, education, writing, ageing, justice and injustice, the nature and definition of 'terrorism', pacifism vs direct action... - and is filled with philosophical digressions, but they are expressed so clearly and beautifully that the book is a pleasure to read. I frequently found myself marking pages to remember, or highlighting passages that struck a chord with me (see the list of quotes below). It's intensely thought-provoking and challenging - but it's also a story I struggled to tear myself away from.
---
p.28: 'When had I tamed myself? It had been a lengthy apprenticeship, begun when I was as young as ten, and continued relentlessly throughout my adolescence, when I had discovered to my own terror that I wanted to murder somebody: my father, a sarcastic friend, my professor of Latin and Greek, even a rude passerby. It was not until I was almost twenty that I began to suspect that, along with the repression of my violent impulses, I had repressed everything, even my ability to experience a profound emotion, even my impulse to do good deeds and help others. I had become as good as I had hoped to be, but good with the cautious detachment of one who never indulges in excess.'
p.39: 'His radical beliefs had always been considered a form of mental honesty. His own life story was first and foremost a history of the books he had read, and he eagerly recounted that story to himself, often with a note of self-deprecation.'
p.57: 'Aging is the slow process of becoming accustomed to the end of real life. One must slowly abandon one's image, one's role, and resign oneself to fading in the memories of others, and in our own. How long had it been since he stopped learning the names of novelists, essayists, directors, singers, artists, and notable people in general? When had he begun to cling to his customary books without trying to read new ones, to his old movie stars without curiosity about the rising ones? Five years ago, or three years ago? His daughter Ida would toss out a name of someone who, in her view, was famous, and he'd shake his head uneasily: he'd never heard of them. Becoming grey, melted wax, formless. Perhaps that was the best way to prepare to die.'
p.62: 'The mists of the Underworld evoked the hypothetical canopy of the Overworld. And that's where I've lived my life, he thought, saddened. In this den, reading, learning. Learning what? The mists of the Underworld, studied and pitied from a comfortable chair, in safety, at the edge of the canopy of the Overworld, in a distant warmth. He had spent a life without great luxury, but without serious privations.'
p.67: 'It was as if—he realized—his blood was running cold, as if his ardor had cooled. He sensed with increasing clarity that the ferocity of political and military behavior, the deplorable actions of the world around him and the world that extended out in the distance, the scandalous poverty of the many and the scandalous wealth of the few, no longer instilled that old sense of determination in him. The very idea that demons don't war against demons, that one Satan never exorcises another Satan, but that there are always hosts of devils on one side and hosts of angels arrayed against them, now struck him as a piece of rank sophistry. At the heart of the battle it is not always so clear where good lies and where evil lies.'
p.96: 'Real images (a ticket taker or the station sign—Genova P. Principe—or the station bar the way I'd seen it at four in the afternoon the week before) set off mental sequences and I lived in a state of distraction for a period that felt endless, but might last only a moment, a fleeting instant. Everything seemed to press in upon me with a vigorous coherence. But as soon as I attempted to marshal everything into written form, the story seemed to lack realism, sociological detail, a fundamental narrative syntax in a way that depressed me.'
p.117-8: 'All the same, a secret part of me... was unable to avoid feeling affinity with the killers rather than the killed, with the kidnappers rather than the kidnapped. I deleted words of condemnation from my vocabulary, I tried not to use current labels. I was careful, even in my thoughts, to avoid using the words murderers, criminals, torturers, terrorists; I felt that they were somehow inadequate. I really thought of them as combatants. Of course, their actions filled me with horror, even fear, and yet the stand they were taking, the determination with which they were attacking, wounding, taking prisoners, and taking life as if they were metaphysical surgeons doing battle with a tumor, led me to feel somehow, I'm not sure how to put it, indebted to them, almost as if I owed them something for having acted in my place, sparing me, at least for the moment, tensions, anxiety, and disgust. That "so?" from Nina, that sign of the impossibility of any reconciliation, both frightened me and fascinated me. What a beautiful day, I thought. So? So? So?'
p.121: 'Good job. You did a good job of shedding blood. In order to eat. In order to occupy someone else's land. To defend yourself. To drive off invaders. To defend sources of water or oil wells. All of these things on this huge verminous ball that day and night a malevolent scarab beetle rolls through a vicious circle, an obtusely fixed orbit in which war follows upon war, massacre follows massacre, and genocide is succeeded by fresh genocide. I carefully swept the balcony, raising clouds of luminous dust.'
p.122-3: 'I had grown old without understanding, and there was nothing to understand. In the final analysis all that mattered was the warm March breeze, springtime, the light striking the wall across the way, the consoling colors that conceal the indecipherable nature of the world. A stream of images—actual, fantastical, dreamed, and remembered. A word, fired by the vocal cords out through the mouth, in a volley of sounds: gutturals, palatals, dentals, labials, nasals. Conciliatory sounds and signs. Or perhaps not, perhaps conversation does not reconcile, does not pacify, does not keep company. We use handsome words to record ugly things, we agree on plans of attack, ambushes, mockeries, genocide, destruction-reconstruction-destruction. We speak violence and we call it the quest for food, hunting, caste, class, competition, market forces, liberation, and the new world order. Perhaps the culminating horror is the seed of the words that describe it.'
p.164: 'Both of us—we discovered—had long and secretly suspected that Stasi was a gullible impostor, that his way of depicting himself was seductive precisely because it was invented out of whole cloth, for our edification and consumption, and for his own.'
April 26, 2017
After enjoying another book by the author, Ties, I decided to try an earlier book by Domenico Starnone. While I appreciated the writing style and the creativity again, I found the alternating story lines hard to follow. I was enjoying the story of the professor, Stasi, but then the author of this story steps in with his point of view (author as a fictional character) and I had trouble staying interested.
Some people find this incredible clever, but I just lost interest. This is most likely just a reflection on me rather than the author.
Some people find this incredible clever, but I just lost interest. This is most likely just a reflection on me rather than the author.
October 6, 2015
Un professore ormai anziano incontra un’ex alunna indagata per banda armata. Lei gli chiede un favore che sembra mettere a rischio la sicurezza dello stesso prof., mentre nella storia trovano spazio le interferenze narrative dello scrittore che la sta scrivendo. È dunque un metaromanzo thriller, questo di Domenico Starnone, e usa le riflessioni su anni di piombo, idealismo e amarezze post-militanza per creare un clima plumbeo e parlare di disagio, insoddisfazione e un po’ anche dell’invecchiare.
La linea narrativa dello scrittore che scrive la storia non è un racconto-cornice: le due trame sono interlacciate, una storia prosegue e completa l’altra, entrambe sono frammentate nella convivenza impossibile tra più scenari, tra diversi esiti contrastanti. Quando la focalizzazione passa da un piano all’altro rimane un senso di continuità, l’atmosfera non cambia. L’espediente fa però calare la tensione, opponendosi ai meccanismi più tranquillizzanti del thriller: paradossalmente, per il lettore sarebbe più rassicurante che la tensione non calasse mai, in un crescendo lineare; il meccanismo su cui gioca invece Starnone è disturbante, mette a disagio il lettore spezzando apparentemente l'inquietudine. Ma in realtà la storia progredisce anche attraverso la vicenda secondaria, quella narrata dallo scrittore, e la sua voce si mescolata a quella del professore protagonista del suo romanzo.
Il gioco post-moderno su cui si basa Prima esecuzione prevede un’oscillazione continua tra le diverse voci narranti e il mescolarsi dei loro punti di vista. A tratti appare persino un narratore esterno, che però finisce sempre per trasformarsi in uno dei due narratori interni. Il protagonista in fondo è soltanto uno: lo scrittore e il professore, sua proiezione solo leggermente distorta, costituiscono un personaggio univoco. Il romanzo accumula una stratificazione di plot paralleli, dove il protagonista può prendere decisioni diverse, contrastanti, facendole coesistere; Starnone crea una simulazione di contemporaneità, in un universo dove di ogni cosa è vero anche il contrario.
È una buona lettura, anche se è tutto un po’ risaputo, già sentito, già letto; e anche se il gioco “meta” riesce ad accentuare il clima da incubo, rimane comunque un po’ artificioso, forzato.
La linea narrativa dello scrittore che scrive la storia non è un racconto-cornice: le due trame sono interlacciate, una storia prosegue e completa l’altra, entrambe sono frammentate nella convivenza impossibile tra più scenari, tra diversi esiti contrastanti. Quando la focalizzazione passa da un piano all’altro rimane un senso di continuità, l’atmosfera non cambia. L’espediente fa però calare la tensione, opponendosi ai meccanismi più tranquillizzanti del thriller: paradossalmente, per il lettore sarebbe più rassicurante che la tensione non calasse mai, in un crescendo lineare; il meccanismo su cui gioca invece Starnone è disturbante, mette a disagio il lettore spezzando apparentemente l'inquietudine. Ma in realtà la storia progredisce anche attraverso la vicenda secondaria, quella narrata dallo scrittore, e la sua voce si mescolata a quella del professore protagonista del suo romanzo.
Il gioco post-moderno su cui si basa Prima esecuzione prevede un’oscillazione continua tra le diverse voci narranti e il mescolarsi dei loro punti di vista. A tratti appare persino un narratore esterno, che però finisce sempre per trasformarsi in uno dei due narratori interni. Il protagonista in fondo è soltanto uno: lo scrittore e il professore, sua proiezione solo leggermente distorta, costituiscono un personaggio univoco. Il romanzo accumula una stratificazione di plot paralleli, dove il protagonista può prendere decisioni diverse, contrastanti, facendole coesistere; Starnone crea una simulazione di contemporaneità, in un universo dove di ogni cosa è vero anche il contrario.
È una buona lettura, anche se è tutto un po’ risaputo, già sentito, già letto; e anche se il gioco “meta” riesce ad accentuare il clima da incubo, rimane comunque un po’ artificioso, forzato.
December 31, 2021
La voce narrante è quella di uno scrittore (forse lo stesso Starnone?), che inizia a raccontare di un certo ex professore Stasi e del suo incontro con un'ex allieva sospettata del reato di banda armata. Durante tale incontro misterioso, l'apatia allieva chiede al professore di recuperare un libro in un appartamento vuoto e di trascrivere una citazione, che costituisce un messaggio in codice per chi lo riceverà.
La cosa incredibile è che Stasi non obietta niente, segue le istruzioni e continua a far ciò che, di volta in volta, gli viene comunicato, fino al sorprendente finale.
Un romanzo stranissimo, una storia nella storia, che, obiettivamente e, soprattutto dopo essere giunti alle ultime pagine, ci si rende conto quanto abilmente sia stata costruita e narrata! Non è un romanzo molto lungo, si legge velocemente e sempre con vivo interesse e grande curiosità.
La cosa incredibile è che Stasi non obietta niente, segue le istruzioni e continua a far ciò che, di volta in volta, gli viene comunicato, fino al sorprendente finale.
Un romanzo stranissimo, una storia nella storia, che, obiettivamente e, soprattutto dopo essere giunti alle ultime pagine, ci si rende conto quanto abilmente sia stata costruita e narrata! Non è un romanzo molto lungo, si legge velocemente e sempre con vivo interesse e grande curiosità.
Read
February 15, 2019A professor is embroiled in an act of terrorism by an old student; a metatext allows for the author to investigate the craft of writing, and the great guilt any honest individual feels when facing the world’s misfortunes. A difficult, strange, contradictory book, elusive in its complexity but still sincere. This was another book which dealt with the tragic misery of the human condition, but unlike some of the other things I read this week did so honestly, without a pretense of humor or excessive nastiness. Very strong, Starnone is great talent.
October 17, 2011
Mixing fiction with nonfiction, it took me a few chapters to get used to Starnone's style. But it was well worth the initial struggle.
April 15, 2024
i loved the writing style of this wow. the interjections of the narrator and the various alternate endings were so interesting, definitely my favorite of the course novels we have had to read. i also loved the discourse on terrorism and democracy, particularly this moment:
"But if an oppressed people needs a little help, should we give it to them or not.... Sure, but not by... Then how?... For instance, by supporting the right to rebellion. But thats a right that governments around the world fear like the plague. They prefer armies, wars, and the secret police... And do democratic societies fear this right as well? ... They fear it more than any other society, especially if the rituals of democracy are in fact a rigged game."
rating: 4.5/5
"But if an oppressed people needs a little help, should we give it to them or not.... Sure, but not by... Then how?... For instance, by supporting the right to rebellion. But thats a right that governments around the world fear like the plague. They prefer armies, wars, and the secret police... And do democratic societies fear this right as well? ... They fear it more than any other society, especially if the rituals of democracy are in fact a rigged game."
rating: 4.5/5
August 29, 2017
I love the moment in Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman when Linda insightfully sums up the crux of Willy's crisis—that he's "only a little boat looking for a harbor."
Though I'm sure our high school teachers were correct in their insistence that Miller's play is about the pitfalls of the American Dream, this little line, to me, reveals the play's more important subtext: what happens when a man becomes completely unmoored from the very concept of meaning.
Like Death of a Salesman, First Execution makes the most sense to me when read through an existential lens. Though I can understand why readers might assert that First Execution is primarily about politics, or terrorism, or morality, I see it as, fundamentally, a novel about meaning, or, more precisely, non-meaning. It's about what happens when a man living in a post-Christian age begins to question whether his convictions are rooted in transcendence or merely superimposed on a reality he himself has constructed. As he loses confidence in his categories, and even in language itself, he comes to perceive his own identity as something flimsy, arbitrary, and absurd.
It’s this delving into the non-meaning of things that leads the narrator/protagonist to the despair-inducing realization that “nothing changes, it’s all equally senseless. Both the journey toward the Sargasso Sea and the rejection of that journey end in death. And so?” (122). The fictional (or not-so-fictional) Starnone who narrates this novel therefore concludes, “Don’t investigate, don’t delve into the meaning—the non-meaning, the non-sense—of words and actions, at my age it could be dangerous” (149). But that's exactly what he does, of course.
I loved everything about this novel: it’s honest examination of the implications of man’s rejection of transcendence, as well as its ingenious composition. And though it’s become sort of uncouth these days to pry into the mysterious identity of Elena Ferrante, especially after the Claudio Gatti debacle, I think this novel gives readers ample reason to hold fast to the theory that Starnone is indeed the voice of Elena Ferrante, and that the Anita Raja business was perhaps just a way to throw us off the scent.
“…it took a special kind of genius to convince someone that he is not himself but someone else” (33).
“It is so absurd—this determination only to write about what I know directly, this stubborn limitation of the imagination” (52).
Though I'm sure our high school teachers were correct in their insistence that Miller's play is about the pitfalls of the American Dream, this little line, to me, reveals the play's more important subtext: what happens when a man becomes completely unmoored from the very concept of meaning.
Like Death of a Salesman, First Execution makes the most sense to me when read through an existential lens. Though I can understand why readers might assert that First Execution is primarily about politics, or terrorism, or morality, I see it as, fundamentally, a novel about meaning, or, more precisely, non-meaning. It's about what happens when a man living in a post-Christian age begins to question whether his convictions are rooted in transcendence or merely superimposed on a reality he himself has constructed. As he loses confidence in his categories, and even in language itself, he comes to perceive his own identity as something flimsy, arbitrary, and absurd.
It’s this delving into the non-meaning of things that leads the narrator/protagonist to the despair-inducing realization that “nothing changes, it’s all equally senseless. Both the journey toward the Sargasso Sea and the rejection of that journey end in death. And so?” (122). The fictional (or not-so-fictional) Starnone who narrates this novel therefore concludes, “Don’t investigate, don’t delve into the meaning—the non-meaning, the non-sense—of words and actions, at my age it could be dangerous” (149). But that's exactly what he does, of course.
I loved everything about this novel: it’s honest examination of the implications of man’s rejection of transcendence, as well as its ingenious composition. And though it’s become sort of uncouth these days to pry into the mysterious identity of Elena Ferrante, especially after the Claudio Gatti debacle, I think this novel gives readers ample reason to hold fast to the theory that Starnone is indeed the voice of Elena Ferrante, and that the Anita Raja business was perhaps just a way to throw us off the scent.
“…it took a special kind of genius to convince someone that he is not himself but someone else” (33).
“It is so absurd—this determination only to write about what I know directly, this stubborn limitation of the imagination” (52).
June 26, 2017
Most of what I would like to say about this excellent novel has already been said well by other "Goodread" readers, so I will not repeat their comments. I would only add that as a former teacher, who like the main character of this novel (at least of the story within the story) often expressed extreme ideas in the classroom, I found the idea of testing the professor to see if he would ever really act on what he taught fascinating . . . and a little painful. I recall, with some chagrin, the old adage that those who can do, do, while those who can't do, teach. Maybe. At any rate, this issue, among others, is explored in Starnone's small, brilliant novel.
June 23, 2024
"Mi repellevano la gambizzazione, Il rapimento, l'assassinio politico: un obbrobrio stupido. Immaginavo le schegge delle ossa, gli organi vitali lacerati e provavo come una vertigine che mi scagliava lo stomaco in gola. Tuttavia una parte segreta di me, persino quando il povero essere umano che prima era vivo e ora giaceva nel suo sangue non poteva essere altro che un uomo innocuo, non riuscivo a non sentire affinità con gli uccisori piuttosto che con la vittima, con i sequestratori piuttosto che con i sequestrati. Cancellavo parole di condanna dal mio vocabolario, evitavo etichette correnti. Stavo attento anche tra me e me, a non dire mai assassini, criminali, aguzzini, terroristi, sentivo che non erano riducibili a quei vocaboli."
Questa è una delle molte citazioni che potremmo incorniciare a dimostrazione di quanto profondo può essere un ragionamento circa il comportamento umano. Il professore Stasi si ritrova a fare i conti dicotomici con la voglia di essere risoluto e combattivo e il dover aderire a una bontà di anziano professore.
Lo Stasi professore è un appendice di Starnone narratore, che si interroga sui modi di costruire un romanzo, dargli forma a partire dai fatti della vita privata, agghindandolo di bugie e allo stesso tempo di fatti storici e riflessioni sul senso del vivere.
Stasi è preso in giro dagli stessi alunni che aveva invitato a riflettere sulle dinamiche del mondo. Si prendono gioco del suo volerli critici e non passivi. Leggono in lui la vacuità di discorsi astratti, lo spingono ad aderire a una lotta per un bene percepito come collettivo solo per capire se l'essere stato così intellettuale nelle parole ha modellato anche uno spirito di azione. Raccoglierà una provocazione? È solo un vecchio che vuole sentirsi parte di una squadra?
La violenza emerge sia nell'immaginario Stasi sia nel protagonista scrittore, che per difendere una donna si fa prendere dalla furia. Entrambi i personaggi creati da Starnone si confrontano con la violenza che cova dentro ognuno di noi.
Starnone rende il suo protagonista un simbolo di complessità ma anche debolezza. Stasi è un personaggio incompiuto, non riesce a definirsi completamente.
Scrivere un romanzo mescola riflessioni profonde a fatti di vita banali, a pulsioni non realizzabili nel mondo reale, a bisogni che a voce non diciamo.
Attraverso i libri emergono i tratti dello scrittore stesso che non si separa mai del tutto dai suoi personaggi. È un confine in cui ci si perde e porta a chiedersi se si sta solo leggendo una grande finzione o qualcosa di molto più grande.
Questa è una delle molte citazioni che potremmo incorniciare a dimostrazione di quanto profondo può essere un ragionamento circa il comportamento umano. Il professore Stasi si ritrova a fare i conti dicotomici con la voglia di essere risoluto e combattivo e il dover aderire a una bontà di anziano professore.
Lo Stasi professore è un appendice di Starnone narratore, che si interroga sui modi di costruire un romanzo, dargli forma a partire dai fatti della vita privata, agghindandolo di bugie e allo stesso tempo di fatti storici e riflessioni sul senso del vivere.
Stasi è preso in giro dagli stessi alunni che aveva invitato a riflettere sulle dinamiche del mondo. Si prendono gioco del suo volerli critici e non passivi. Leggono in lui la vacuità di discorsi astratti, lo spingono ad aderire a una lotta per un bene percepito come collettivo solo per capire se l'essere stato così intellettuale nelle parole ha modellato anche uno spirito di azione. Raccoglierà una provocazione? È solo un vecchio che vuole sentirsi parte di una squadra?
La violenza emerge sia nell'immaginario Stasi sia nel protagonista scrittore, che per difendere una donna si fa prendere dalla furia. Entrambi i personaggi creati da Starnone si confrontano con la violenza che cova dentro ognuno di noi.
Starnone rende il suo protagonista un simbolo di complessità ma anche debolezza. Stasi è un personaggio incompiuto, non riesce a definirsi completamente.
Scrivere un romanzo mescola riflessioni profonde a fatti di vita banali, a pulsioni non realizzabili nel mondo reale, a bisogni che a voce non diciamo.
Attraverso i libri emergono i tratti dello scrittore stesso che non si separa mai del tutto dai suoi personaggi. È un confine in cui ci si perde e porta a chiedersi se si sta solo leggendo una grande finzione o qualcosa di molto più grande.
January 3, 2018
If you read Starnone’s Ties & loved it (like me), then definitely read this book. If you haven’t read Ties yet, please go & read it first. Both are great books, but Ties is easier to follow... First Execution follows a similar structure, but is more confusing. If I hadn’t read Ties first, I probably would have given up on First Execution, then I would have missed out on finishing a fabulous book.
June 13, 2019
Starnone, as always, a breeze of an experience. Fully immersive is this convoluted little world--vaguely spy-ish thriller, autofiction(?), metafiction(?)--like it is a book about Starnone writing the book? Or is this book about Starnone writing a character who is writing the book? I'm pretty sure there's three layers here, but it's endlessly captivating due to Starnone's effortless prose. Just lovely.
October 8, 2018
Si alternano e si intrecciano due linee narrative, fra autobiografia e finzione. Nel frattempo considerazioni sul rapporto fra impegno e scrittura, sul significato della violenza, dell'insegnamento, e della vita. Così.
August 13, 2020
Una veloce, ma non banale, riflessione sulla scrittura dove reale e immaginato si fondono senza più distinguersi. Starnone fa della teoria senza annoiare ma innestandola in una trama ben ritmata e coinvolgente.
May 30, 2021
I loved Ties and Trick but I didn't find this one very compelling. The metafictional reflections on the work in progress didn't add much for me either. Starnone is an exceptionally talented author, though.
June 28, 2024
Ammetto di non averlo compreso a fondo. Credo mi siano sfuggite sfaccettature della trama troppo complesse per il mio stile di lettura.
Ho apprezzato la scrittura veloce e scandita da tanta punteggiatura
Ho apprezzato la scrittura veloce e scandita da tanta punteggiatura
August 13, 2017
An excuse to proletyse
January 2, 2022
Toed the line between clever and heavy-handed.
July 25, 2025
Meno male che è breve. Mi ha lasciata completamente indifferente.
April 27, 2009
"A narrator/author, Domenico Stasi, is writing a story about events from his own life while adapting these events to the needs of his fiction, telling his story and then backing up and rewriting his plot, while also experimenting with characters." -- Amazon customer review
I've just started this, am finding it intriguing so far. ...however, I couldn't finish it (highly unusual for me.) The skipping back & forth between the story itself & the segments where the author is rewriting the story got too confusing. I thought I would be able to get through it -- it's only 171 pages long --but once I stopped forcing myself to read one more section, I couldn't make myself pick it up again! I think maybe someone who is actively involved in their own writing might enjoy it for the "insider" point of view
I've just started this, am finding it intriguing so far. ...however, I couldn't finish it (highly unusual for me.) The skipping back & forth between the story itself & the segments where the author is rewriting the story got too confusing. I thought I would be able to get through it -- it's only 171 pages long --but once I stopped forcing myself to read one more section, I couldn't make myself pick it up again! I think maybe someone who is actively involved in their own writing might enjoy it for the "insider" point of view
tbr-fiction-200-or-less
March 21, 2016Want to read because of this quote: p.28: 'When had I tamed myself? It had been a lengthy apprenticeship, begun when I was as young as ten, and continued relentlessly throughout my adolescence, when I had discovered to my own terror that I wanted to murder somebody: my father, a sarcastic friend, my professor of Latin and Greek, even a rude passerby. It was not until I was almost twenty that I began to suspect that, along with the repression of my violent impulses, I had repressed everything, even my ability to experience a profound emotion, even my impulse to do good deeds and help others. I had become as good as I had hoped to be, but good with the cautious detachment of one who never indulges in excess.'
December 10, 2011
The unreliable narrator is at his best in this book. First Execution presents a few questions and leaves you to answer them yourself. What is it like to write and rewrite a story until it is part of you? And more importantly - many of us complain about the "state of the world" and the "great injustices," but how many of us would actually step up and do something about it?
The blurb in the back of the book described it as being about terrorism. I think it's more about searching ourselves for what we really, truly believe. A very interesting read for anyone who is trying to find a place in our confusing world.
The blurb in the back of the book described it as being about terrorism. I think it's more about searching ourselves for what we really, truly believe. A very interesting read for anyone who is trying to find a place in our confusing world.
January 14, 2016
I read this to see if the style really is similar enough to Elena Ferrante to be the same person. I didn’t realize Europa Press discontinued titles so I bought this used on Amazon - it was interesting the way perspectives shifted and the story jumped between the writer and the character, but nothing about it is really staying with me. I wish someone would translate his other stuff to help me to create a more well rounded opinion of Starnone.
March 10, 2015
Not so much. I can admire the skill of the writer without much liking the piece he has fabricated.
I am not a fan of metafiction. I find the self-referential and narcissistic aspects grow tiresome rather quickly. Maybe it's a personal failing on my part but I'm okay with that.
I can be momentarily engaged in viewing picture of the man on the Quaker Oats box who is holding a Quaker Oats box with a picture of a man on it, but not for long.
I am not a fan of metafiction. I find the self-referential and narcissistic aspects grow tiresome rather quickly. Maybe it's a personal failing on my part but I'm okay with that.
I can be momentarily engaged in viewing picture of the man on the Quaker Oats box who is holding a Quaker Oats box with a picture of a man on it, but not for long.
January 30, 2011
intriguing and funny in a few places.
October 17, 2015
Intriguing and boring at the same time. A bit overdone.
July 19, 2016
Loved it. It was just amazing. The mixture of political drama with going criminal investigation was enthralling.
April 6, 2017
This is a wonderful book, a thriller and not-a-thriller, fictional, with some autobiographical aspects. What happens next - mixed with political and authorial thoughts. First book by an author whose second book has gotten great reviews.
April 6, 2017
Testo molto corto, eppure complesso. Ruota intorno ad un'unica, ma brillante intuizione narrativa: un professore di italiano in pensione riceva una strana missione da una sua ex-alunna, accusata di far parte delle Nuove Brigate Rosse. L'uomo, come se in quella missione cercasse di riappropriarsi di una diluita identità politica ed etica, segue quanto richiesto.
Alle pagine legate alla figura di Domenico Stasi si mescolano quelle di Starnone stesso, che parla di come ha intenzione di scrivere tale racconto. Le due figure si mescolano, si scambiano eventi di vita, opinione, dubbi: è come se Starnone avesse bisogno di immaginarsi in una specifica situazione estrema per provare i limiti della propria forza e della propria etica. Un testo metaletterario che mostra il suo farsi, addirittura i cambi di scena.
Si disegna un quadro disilluso della figura dell'insegnante: la forza pedagogica che scuote gli altri non protegge l'insegnante stesso dai dubbi, dalle bestialità, dagli scatti di ira. Il racconto si fa anche riflessione sulla violenza, sul desiderio di prevaricazione che alberga in tutti. Anche la conoscenza e forse soprattutto quella smuove il singolo ad atti di violenza, specialmente quando si trova di fronte ad atti di palese meschinità. Il buono non è necessariamente il santo che si priva di tutto (nel testo si rievoca spesso il Santo Domenico Savio, figura di santo bambino morto a quindici anni) - poiché così facendo guadagna la santità per annichilimento, ma può esserlo anche chi fa uso della violenza contro chi se la merita, contro chi cerca di fare del male. La bestialità, quindi, non viene messa a tacere dalla saggezza, ma solo addomesticata.
La narrazione, fatta di piccoli ma significativi episodi, va avanti per colpi di scena, mantenendo l'attenzione del lettore, che a un certo punto si troverà spaesato: dove inizia Stasi e finisce Starnone? Quanto di ciò che si legge è frutto della voglia di raccontare una storia avvincente e quanto della volontà di scandagliare il proprio intimo? Il testo non dà risposte, terminando in maniera rapidissima. Un testo costruito in maniera magistrale, dalla grande forza simbolica.
Alle pagine legate alla figura di Domenico Stasi si mescolano quelle di Starnone stesso, che parla di come ha intenzione di scrivere tale racconto. Le due figure si mescolano, si scambiano eventi di vita, opinione, dubbi: è come se Starnone avesse bisogno di immaginarsi in una specifica situazione estrema per provare i limiti della propria forza e della propria etica. Un testo metaletterario che mostra il suo farsi, addirittura i cambi di scena.
Si disegna un quadro disilluso della figura dell'insegnante: la forza pedagogica che scuote gli altri non protegge l'insegnante stesso dai dubbi, dalle bestialità, dagli scatti di ira. Il racconto si fa anche riflessione sulla violenza, sul desiderio di prevaricazione che alberga in tutti. Anche la conoscenza e forse soprattutto quella smuove il singolo ad atti di violenza, specialmente quando si trova di fronte ad atti di palese meschinità. Il buono non è necessariamente il santo che si priva di tutto (nel testo si rievoca spesso il Santo Domenico Savio, figura di santo bambino morto a quindici anni) - poiché così facendo guadagna la santità per annichilimento, ma può esserlo anche chi fa uso della violenza contro chi se la merita, contro chi cerca di fare del male. La bestialità, quindi, non viene messa a tacere dalla saggezza, ma solo addomesticata.
La narrazione, fatta di piccoli ma significativi episodi, va avanti per colpi di scena, mantenendo l'attenzione del lettore, che a un certo punto si troverà spaesato: dove inizia Stasi e finisce Starnone? Quanto di ciò che si legge è frutto della voglia di raccontare una storia avvincente e quanto della volontà di scandagliare il proprio intimo? Il testo non dà risposte, terminando in maniera rapidissima. Un testo costruito in maniera magistrale, dalla grande forza simbolica.
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